


Tasers and Tattoo Guns

by cylobaby27



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Marvel RarePair Exchange, Tattoo Shop!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylobaby27/pseuds/cylobaby27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every day on the way to get coffee after a long day in Jane's lab, Darcy passes by an unassuming tattoo shop called Avenge. There's more to the shop than its shabby exterior implies, though, and she discovers the same is true of a certain ruffled-looking artist who works there.</p><p>In which Bruce is a avant garde tattoo artist and Darcy is looking to get inked (and possibly laid)</p><p>For the Marvel RarePair Exchange</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tasers and Tattoo Guns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



She's got on her red lipstick, the heels that make her ass look fantastic, a slouchy sweater that hides the fact that it's essentially a security blanket in clothing form by being in fashion, and a pair of black leggings. Darcy Lewis is one badass lady, and she knows it. 

At least, that's the image she hopes she's projecting as she strolls into Avenge, the small tattoo shop down the street from her favorite coffee shop. She's been eyeing the shop since she came to the Big Apple a month earlier. The outside is less than attention-grabbing, but there's something magnetic about the place. The music that leaks through the front door makes her feel energized and calm at once, and the staff inside has the kind of easy confidence found in the best spies and tattoo artists. 

There are only so many days Darcy can trudge past it on her way to and from her post-work coffee break before she withdraws some cash, takes a deep breath, and then walks through the front door. 

'They have no clue you're a tattoo virgin,' Darcy reminds herself. 

She's made a career--literally-- of acting like she knows what she's doing. One doesn't go from a political science major to a lab rat in one of the country's best facilities without the ability to bullshit a bit. 

"Hey," she greets, nodding at an artist by the window, who is methodically weaving a ribbon through a set of hooks embedded in a woman's back. 

The artist nods at her, but returns to her work without another word. Her striped hoodie and Vans may seem casual, but the unaffected expression on her beautiful face makes Darcy move along through the shop. The tattooed spider creeping up her neck doesn't make Darcy feel any more comfortable. 

In usual New York fashion, the shop is much longer than it is wide. Three work stations are set up, complete with latex gloves, seran wrap, and an array of sharp tools, and a desk is pushed against the right wall. 

The man sitting there is throwing wooden pencils at the ceiling. Judging from the cluster over his head, he's not bad at it. 

"Hi," Darcy greets, rapping her fingers on the desk. 

The man rolls his head over to look at her. His blond hair is shaved on one side and he's wearing a pair of purple ear gauges. "Hey," he greets. "What's up?"

"I, uh, want a tattoo," she says. 

With a shrug, the man rolls to his feet. "Let me give you the tour." He nods toward the woman at the front. "That's Natasha. She's our piercing expert, but can also tattoo when we need an extra set of hands. I'm Clint, and I work here. Detail work, realism, pointillism, that kind of stuff, I'm your guy. Bruce is in the back, but he's taking a coffee break right now."

"What's his style?" Darcy asks, since Clint apparently seems done with the tour. 

Clint picks up a thick binder from the desk and plops it into her hands. "Take a look. They're all labeled with the artist."

Settling on the plush leather love seat beside the desk, Darcy crosses her legs and opens the binder. 

When Darcy was in college, she went with her roommate and her boyfriend to see him get a tattoo done. Darcy had never approved of the guy, and the vomit-inducing cartoon of their school mascot he had chosen had just validated her intuition. The shop had had a binder like this one, but was full of bright, tacky flash tattoos. You would think there are only so many variations of roses, skulls, and panthers people could think of, but every page had contained a new atrocity. 

This binder, though, is filled with page after page of stunning art. Swaths of color that look like errant paint strokes, undulating dotwork that flows with the body's shape, birds that look like they could swoop off the page. As Darcy flips through, though, she's drawn to the sharp, geometric designs all labeled 'Bruce.' Some are simple, just a single outlined triangle resting on a forearm. Others blend lines, dots, circles, and triangles to create new designs. 

Darcy works with charts and diagrams all day as Jane's assistant, but she had never imagined moving those patterns onto her skin. 

"This," Darcy says, holding the binder up so Clint can see the page she was talking about. "I want this. Well, something like it."

Shrugging, Clint says, "Bruce has an appointment that's supposed to take up the rest of tonight, but you can stick around and schedule something with him if you want." The bell at the front rings, and Clint raises his eyebrows. "Speak of the devil. Hey, Brucie, I've got a girl here who likes your stuff!"

The man who walks into the shop looks nothing like Darcy's preconception of a tattoo artist. For one, if he has any tattoos, they're not anywhere that Darcy can see them. Secondly, the main adjective that comes to Darcy's mind when she takes in his fluffy salt-and-pepper hair and warm eyes is _adorable_. Though his artwork filled the sample binder, Bruce enters the shop like he's the guest, hands clasped, even though Natasha gives him a friendly nod. 

"Yeah?" he asks, coming to a halt by Darcy's couch. "I'm waiting on a client, who apparently isn't here yet, so we could do a quick consultation if you're free now."

"Hell yeah!" Darcy says, patting the couch beside her. 

Bruce sits down carefully. The couch is small enough that it would be easy for them to touch, but Bruce carefully keeps an inch between them. "Where are you looking to get it?" he asks. 

"Here," Darcy says, running a finger down the front of her ribs, starting right under her bra. Bruce doesn't take the unsubtle invitation to check out her rack, instead nodding and looking back at the binder.

"And do you have a sketch of your idea?" Bruce prompts.

Darcy just shrugs. "Nope. Just go crazy. I trust you."

Bruce raises his eyebrows and then smiles. "All right. Let me grab a pencil and paper, and I'll see what I can put together before the next appointment gets here." 

When Darcy was in high school, she took a requisite art class and had quickly discovered that art was a talent she did not possess. Mixing music? Yeah, sure. Color-coding files like a boss? Absolutely. Drawing a house? No chance in hell. She remembers sitting in class, charcoal in hand, staring down at her blank paper and counting down the minutes until she could leave. Nowadays, the combined efforts of her and Jane drawing on the whiteboard reach the level of an average third-grader.

Bruce, though, draws as though the pencil is an extension of his thoughts. He has small ruler that he uses to keep the lines straight, but the resulting pattern looks like it should have been printed from a computer. In the end, the combination of squares and triangles form a simplistic, crisp design that Darcy falls in love with immediately. The shape doesn't mean anything beyond its own self-contained beauty. It just _is_.

When he finally sets the pencil down, Darcy blurts, "How do you come up with this stuff?"

He shrugs. "It helps having you in front of me. I just draw what comes to mind."

Raising her eyebrows, Darcy says, "You got this from looking at me? That may be one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me-- and trust me, that's saying something."

"I can imagine," Bruce replies softly, a sheepish smile on his face.

Clint snorts from his seat at the desk, but they both ignore him

"So when can I get it?" Darcy asks. "I live near here-- just moved in a few months ago, actually-- and can come back whenever!"

Bruce glances over at Clint. "Your client looks like a no-show," Clint says. "If you guys don't do it now, the waitlist is a solid two months." 

"Can we?" Darcy asks Bruce, hitting him with the biggest puppy-eyes she can muster. She rolls her shoulders back a bit as well. There is far more to Darcy than her blue eyes and big boobs, but she's smart enough to work with everything she's given.

To his credit and Darcy's slight disappointment, Bruce doesn't take the invitation to glance down. "If you're sure this piece is what you want," he says. 

"It is," Darcy replies. "Trust me, I'm a girl who makes decisions quickly and has no regrets. Well, mostly. Point is, I know what I want." She throws in a wink, just to test if anything can faze him. 

He nods. "Let me just go clean up my station then," he says. 

When he walks away, Darcy clutches the clipboard with her tattoo sketched on it to her chest and sinks back into the cushions. 

"Does that tactic usually work?" Clint asks from the desk. 

She tilts her head slightly toward him. "Hm?"

"The brazen thing," Clint continues. "Does it usually work on nice guys like Bruce?"

Darcy raises her eyebrows. "Excuse me, are you judging me? Because your friend is cute and I can flirt with whoever I want." She keeps her voice down, but Bruce has turned on a radio by his station and isn't listening. 

Clint chuckles. "Nah, it's probably good for someone to shake things up for Bruce. I just am trying to make a plan on seduction for my own quiet guy."

Shrugging, Darcy relaxes back on the couch. "I'll let you know how this turns out. I don't usually for the quiet ones. They scare off too easily."

With a snort, Clint counters, "Not my guy. Nothing fazes him. He's just well-mannered."

"Well, if he hangs out with you, he's obviously not really concerned about whether his friends live up to the same standards. Boyfriends are probably the same."

Clint hums thoughtfully. "Hey, Nat!" he calls. 

The woman finished her previous appointment during Darcy's consultation, and is now prepping to pierce a girl's nose. She looks up from her tools with raised eyebrows. "Clint," she returns with fond exasperation. 

"Are all of Coulson's friends assholes, or just us?" he asks. 

"You've met Nick and Maria," she points out. "What do you think?"

"Oh good," Clint says. 

"He has those weekly 'coffee dates' with Pepper that are just thinly veiled bitchfests, but I don't think she qualifies as an asshole. But majority-wise? He surrounds himself with them. Just look at his boss."

"Wait, are you talking about the Coulson who works for Tony Stark?" Darcy says. "Hm, I guess he is pretty hot in, like, a dad way."

"He's hot in every way. And you're one to talk. Look who you've been flirting with," he says, tilting his head toward Bruce. 

There is a hiss of air at the front of the shop, and then Natasha is examining the new piercing. Nodding to herself, she looks back at Darcy. "How do you know Coulson?"

"He's the one that dragged me and my boss to New York to work for SI," Darcy says. "And 'dragged' is a gentle term for the way he steamrolled us. By the time he left the first meeting, Jane was convinced it was all her idea."

Bruce approaches them again, pulling gloves onto his hands. "Are you talking about Jane Foster?"

"And they say New York is a big city," Darcy says. "How do you know Jane?"

"Tony's my best friend. He keeps me updated on new hires since I used to study genetics for SI."

"Huh," Darcy muses. "Small world."

"Ready?" Bruce asks, and Darcy pops to her feet. 

"Hell yes!"

By the time she's shirtless on the table, Darcy is starting to have doubts. She had suffered an overwhelming fear of dentists as a child, and had never quite gotten over it. She's gotten past her instinct to bite at anyone who comes near her with cleaning tools, but at least with dentists you didn't have to strip. Here, she is deliberately exposing one of the most vulnerable parts of her body to a needle. Even her purple lace bra isn't enough to boost her confidence right now. 

Bruce scans the design onto transfer paper. "Lie still," he says, before placing the paper on her ribs and smoothing a warm hand over it. 

When he removes it, Darcy cranes to see the design, but her own boobs impede her efforts. Clearly having taken that into consideration, Bruce tells her to sit up and points her to a wall mirror to check the placement. 

The tattoo is only in temporary purple for now, but it still looks stark against her pale skin. 

"Wow," she says softly. The design looks even better on her skin than it had on paper. "It's gorgeous."

"Damn, Darcy Lewis," Clint calls from the front of the shop, and Darcy flips him off. 

"We're headed out. You okay to close up, Bruce?" Natasha asks. She looks no less intimidating without a needle gun in her hands. 

Bruce nods and waves before returning his attention to Darcy. "The location's all right?"

"Perfect," she replies, but then hesitates. "Are you guys closing?" The clock on the wall says ten, but she didn't actually check their hours when she entered. 

"They were both done with appointments for the day, and it's too late for walk-ins. Besides, I wouldn't make you leave now." 

The part of Darcy that was hoping to be given an excuse to go home deflates. 

Clearly noticing her expression, Bruce adds, "If you're not comfortable being out this late, we can reschedule. This isn't a bad part of town, though, and it won't take more than thirty minutes."

With a chuckle, Darcy says, "I keep a taser in my bag. The night doesn't scare me." This whole tattoo thing, though, kind of does. She looks at herself in the mirror for a long moment. "Is this going to hurt?" she asks, turning to meet Bruce's eyes. 

"Yes," he says simply. 

"Right." Darcy nods to herself, trying to recapture the confidence she had when she walked in here. 

"There are endless things in life that hurt," Bruce continues. "Tattoos are just a scar you get to choose."

"Let's do it," Darcy says, climbing back on the table. 

The buzzing drone of the tattoo gun jars Darcy's nerves and she tenses as it gets closer. 

"Breathe," Bruce instructs her quietly. "Deep, slow breaths; in through your nose, out through your mouth." He waits until she's doing as instructed before he finally gets to work. 

Darcy bites her tongue for the few minute or so, and then says, "Yeah, wow, that does hurt."

"Don't talk," he tells her gently, movements not pausing. "The more still you are, the clearer and quicker your piece is going to be."

"I'm a social person. If I can't talk, you have to," Darcy says, trying to keep her torso as still as possible. 

"Okay," Bruce says easily. "What do you want to know?"

She glares at him and raises an eyebrow. 

"You're really not holding up your end of the conversation, Miss Lewis," he teases, and she sticks her tongue out at him. 

He hums contemplatively, and Darcy is about to open her mouth again when he says, "I, uh, didn't always want to be a tattoo artist." He darts a look at her as though asking her permission to continue talking. She gets the feeling that he doesn't spend much time talking about himself. She tries to look as interested as possible while moving the least amount of muscles. "Like I said, I used to be a scientist. I got my PhD in Genetics and Molecular Biology from Columbia and got hired by SI not long after. I loved science. Still do. But it’s not the easiest job.” 

Darcy rolls her eyes with all the force she can muster. Her _entire_ job is to make sure that Jane doesn’t work herself to death. There’s nothing about science that seems easy. When it’s not waiting around for the hundredth round of test results, it’s watching Jane stare, fascinated, at her digital whiteboard (courtesy of Tony Stark). 

“It’s a high pressure job. Some people are more suited to that type of thing than others.”

The man is literally using a needle to embed permanent marks into her skin. Darcy isn’t sure she really trusts his standard of pressure. 

“I… Well, I wasn’t suited to it. Tony bullied me into taking some time off and jetted me out to a Buddhist monastery in Tibet so I could find some Zen in my life. It worked a little too well, I think. I quit my job, took up yoga, and replaced all the coffee in my diet with decaf tea.” Darcy can’t repress a disgusted expression, and Bruce chuckles. His hands never waver, but Darcy is too focused on the soft expression on his face to notice the pain anymore. “I had never been interested in traditional color tattoos, but I got a mandala on my back during my fifth trip to the monastery.” 

That answers the question as to whether Bruce actually had any tattoos. Darcy wonders if he has any others hidden under his clothes.

"I got it because the symbol meant a lot to me, but afterward I was fascinated by, well, the science behind it. With how much skin the human body sheds over a lifetime, the mechanism for permanently changing it without resorting to scarring was fascinating. It's not just that the needle pierces the dermis. The body's immune system attacks what it sees as an infection, and ends up making the ink stay visible forever. You see, macrophages try to get rid of the ink, which is causing inflammation, and then the fibroblasts-- Sorry," he says, suddenly stumbling over his words. "I just..."

"Science," Darcy says, moving her mouth only enough to get the words out, but her lips curl into a smile without her permission. When it seems like Bruce is going to stop talking there, she clears her throat and raises her eyebrows. 

"Okay. Anyway, I apprenticed over there, and then brought my ideas back here. I met Natasha and Clint through mutual friends, and once they saw my stuff they brought me in to expand their portfolio. I’ve been here for three years now, and can’t imagine doing anything else."

He tells her about being best friends with an eccentric billionaire, and the related struggles of getting kidnapped more than once for a surprise trip to Malibu. Though his expression is put-upon, his voice is warm and affectionate. 

He doesn't talk about his life before college, but Darcy doesn't blame him. A lot of people come to New York to start fresh. Their origins don't define them anymore than their natural hair color. 

At this point, the fact that she can't respond is more painful than the needles, but she stays dutifully still until Bruce finally pulls back. "Done," he said. 

"Can I see it?" Darcy says immediately. 

"You should move until I get it wrapped up, and the dressing needs to stay on for a few hours," Bruce says. 

"Take a pic and show me. I promise not to move," Darcy insists.

Obediently, Bruce pulls out his phone and carefully takes a picture. When he hands it over to her, she nearly breaks her promise not to move. "What is this?"

"Is there something wrong?" Bruce asks, concern threading his voice. 

"No, no, the tattoo is beautiful, I'm swooning, I swear. I just got distracted by the fact that you're using alien tech as your cell phone," Darcy says. Her expression stilled as she finally really looked at the photo on the phone. 

"Um, Darcy?" Bruce prompts. 

"Wow," she says, hand hovering an inch from the phone. On the pale canvas of her skin, the tattoo was vibrant and enchanting. When people said that tattoos were living works of art, she had never really understood. Until now. 

"It's just the new StarkPhone," Bruce says. "Tony uses me to test their durability since I tend to...smash them."

"Look, that's awesome and I kind of want to stick the phone down my bra because I know you're too much of a gentleman to take it back--"

"Um, thanks?"

Darcy talks over him. "But I wouldn't do that to you after you did _this_. Bruce, this tattoo is just..." Beaming, she finally tears her gaze from the phone. "It's amazing."

"I'm glad you like it," Bruce says, and his ears are slightly pink. 

"I'd hug you right now, but you said I'm not allowed to move until you bandage me up, so."

"Right," Bruce says, immediately turning his attention back to the tattoo. He swipes a layer of antiseptic across her, his hands warm even through his glove, and then wraps her torso in saran wrap. As he works, he recites the instructions for caring for tattoo, which is apparently categorized as an open wound. Darcy takes the instructions with the same casual agreement as she does when her dentist tells her to floss twice a day, or when her mom used to tell her not to swim in the rain. Cleaning the tattoo three times a day sounds like a great idea. Whether she'll follow through is much less certain. 

Darcy can't stop beaming even as she shells over a hundred dollars. Bruce puts the money in the register and then closes it carefully. “So, you remember the rules? Keep it clean, and no strenuous exercise for the next few weeks.”

“I got it,” Darcy says. “Besides, I’m more of a fan of the TV marathon than the other kind.”

Bruce brushes a thumb over the cash register, not looking over at her. “Well, if you feel like it, you can do yoga.”

“Yoga?”

“Yeah, as long as you let the instructor know that you have a healing tattoo. You said you’re new to the city, so it could be a good way to meet people too. I, uh, know a good place out in Greenpoint. I usually go on Saturday mornings at eight.” Bruce’s gaze finally meets hers, and its steady even though his hands haven’t stopped their fumbling.

Darcy raises her eyebrows. “Eight on a Saturday?”

“Too intense for you?” Bruce asks, and there’s a hint of a smirk on his lips. 

“I don’t even usually have weekend brunch until noon,” she replies. 

“Right,” Bruce says, looking down. “Well, um, the invitation stands.”

“Or…” Darcy drawls. She waits until his gaze is on her again before she continues, “You could just ask me to dinner. Then we could do a private yoga lesson.” She winks, just in case he missed the innuendo. 

Smile back in full force, Bruce asks, “Would you like to go get dinner with me sometime?” 

“I’ll even let you pick some hipster vegan place,” she agrees with a smirk. “Just make it worth my while."

He does. 

———

Five years later, Darcy gets her fourth tattoo from Bruce. It’s a mandala on her left ring finger, and is her favorite to date.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fic! I love Bruce/Darcy, and had to take on the "tattoo" prompt.


End file.
